The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-08-06
Tle model uilliOlaiTe.

Unless one is wealthy there is no good in being a charming fellow. Romance is the privilege of the rich, not the profession of the unemployed. The poor should be practical and pro- safe. It is better to have permanent income than to be fascinating. These are the great truths of modern life which Hughie Erskine never realized. Poor Hughie! Intellectually, we must admit, he was not of much inn portance. He never said either a brilliant or an ill-natured thing in his life. But then he was wonderfully good-looking, with his crisp brown hair, his clear cut profile, and his gray eyes. He was as popular with men as he was with women, and he had every accomplishment except that of making money. His father had be- queathed him his cavalry sword and a "History of the Peninsular War" in fifteen volumes. Hughie hung the first over his looking glass, put the second on shelf between Ruf's Guade and Bot2ys Magazine, and lived on two hundred year that an old aunt allowed him. He had tried everything. He had gone on the stock exchange for six months but what was butterfly to do amoug bulls and bears! He had been tea merchant tor little longer, but had soon tired of Pekoc and Souchong. Then he had tried selling dry sherry. That did not answer. Ultimately he became nothing, a delightful, intellectual young man with perfect profile and no pro- tession.
 To make matters worse, he was in love. The girl he loved was Laura Merton, the daughter of retired colonel who had lost his temper and his digestion in India, and had never found either of them again. Laura adored him, and he was ready to kiss her shoestrings. They were the hand somest couple in London, and had not a penny piece between them. The colonel was very fond of Hughie, but would not hear of any engagement.
 "Come to me, my boy, when you have got 10000 pounds of your own, and we will see about it." he used to say; and Hughie looked very glum on those days, and had to go to Laura for consolation.
 One morning, as he was on his way to Holland Park, where the Mertons lived, he dropped in to see a great friend of his, Alan Trevor. Trevor was painter. Indeed, few people escape that nowadays. But he was also an artist, and artists are rather rare. Personally, he was a strange, rough fellow, with freckled face and red hair. However, when he took up his brush he was real master, and his picture was eagerly sought after. He had been very much attracted by Hughie, at first, it must be acknowi- edged, entirely on account of his looks. "The only people painter should know," he used to say, ssare people who are 6ete and beautiful, people who are an artistic pleasure to look at and an intellectual repose to talk to. Dan- dies and darlings rule the world !s However, after he got to know Hughie better, he liked him quite as much for his bright, buoyant spirits and his generous, wreckless nature, and had given him the permanent en- tree to his studio.
 When Hughie came in he found Trevor putting the finishing touches to a wonderful life-size picture of a beggar-man. The beggar himself was standing on raised platform in a corner of the studio. He was wiz ened old man, with face like wrin- kled parchment, and most piteous expression. Over his shoulders was flung coarse brown cloak, all tears